It was as beautiful a day as the corrupted lands could muster. Chrisp and chill, the sun desperately trying to give some degree of purity upon what it overlooked. Even if all that was before the gates were the Orks, it would have been entirely in vain.
The Greenskins were arrayed in an untidy mob, seething and raging, scrambling before their betters now, their great terrible drums forgotten. For looming above them was the very symbol of the Chaotic authority they were in thrall to.
Culhwch gripped the ramparts tightly, staring up at the thing as it took another huge shuddering step. It was a great fortress, with great black towers like jagged glass, moving on gigantic crab-like legs. Every step caused a minor earthquake, sending Greenskins scattering. He realized, to his chagrin, he felt sorry for the miserable xenos.
"Prince Vortimer's walking fortress," Tinker Bell said softly, still invisible beside him. He could feel her shaking, her wings creating minor vibrations in the air. "We are running out of time."
The abomination loomed closer and closer with each massive step. Culhwch could make out individual soldiers on the ramparts now, men in grey armor with Chaos emblems on their coats. The closest men saw him, and one waved, his spoken greeting drowned out by another crash of the leg.
Culhwch waved back absently. "Where the son is, the father won't be far behind, is that right, Tinker?"
"The Tyrant could be in that fortress as well, or just behind. My eyes are sharp, I can see a train of cars and similar conveyances making their way just behind it." Her disgust was tangible, a flicker in the seemingly empty air. "Belching poison into the atmosphere."
Culhwch only nodded. He was pretty sure the fairy's tiny voice couldn't carry to anyone but him, but as the great fortress drew closer, he found himself worried about being seen talking to nothing.
"There are entire worlds poisoned in such a way, industry obliterating all nature. They say even Terra, the homeworld of humanity, entirely lost its oceans. We always wondered how you managed that, and how you survived."
Despite himself, Culhwch chuckled ruefully. "We endured, I suppose."
"Culhwch?" called a soft, familiar voice. Olwen walked up onto the ramparts, holding a coat against her body. She smiled when she saw him. "I thought I heard you."
Culhwch smiled at the sight of her, but wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't certain what Tinker Bell's reaction to his lover would be, but he didn't have much choice as she moved close for an embrace. He couldn't hear Tinker Bell's reaction, perhaps she was still distracted.
"Prince Vortimer is coming close," Olwen said softly, "I can feel his sorcery, I think. Electricity in the air."
"You know him?" Culhwch asked.
"I met him once, long ago, before I came here. He came to my father's keep, in that terrible machine of his, and was able to demand tribute. He is dangerous and powerful, bolstered by great magic. He killed a servant who offended him without even touching her with his hands."
The sorcerous contraption finally stopped. It was near enough to touch the arena, almost so that the soldiers on its ramparts could leap to the other with little trouble. The men Culhwch could see didn't do that, instead they vanished within the terrible place. "I'm powerful too," he said softly, stroking Olwen's back.
"I know. Still, be careful. More and more dangerous Lords will be coming here. Including my father." She took a deep breath. "If he learned about you, about how I have engaged in sexual acts with you, he'd have you hung by your testicles by hooks until they tore off."
Culhwch chuckled. "Graphic and imaginative."
"This is not a joke!" Olwen looked up at him, her eyes firm. "It will only get worse from here, my heart. You and I both need to be prepared to fight, each in our own way."
"Of course," Culhwch said firmly. He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips. He'd already forgotten about Tinker Bell, though he could feel her little wings fluttering by his ear now.
"There is a man I trust with Prince Vortimer," Olwen whispered into his lips, "his name is Morcant, he is working for the Sevenblessed, but I believe him to be a good man, bound to Chaos for reasons I cannot understand. From what he told me on that visit, he is of a kind with Lady Tuesday, he spoke to me of an entity called the Primogenitor, whom Tuesday has also mentioned."
"I don't trust Tuesday," Culhwch muttered, "she is a wretched madwoman."
"They are the same sort of being, but they are different people. I'm not saying to trust him automatically, just that it is possible he could help us." She smiled wryly. "If he proves false, fight him like the rest."
"Now that is something I can understand," Culhwch said with a laugh. He put an arm around her, sparing one final glance at the now still fortress. "For now though, I would hope we still have at least a little time for more pleasant thoughts and more enjoyable distraction."
"I'm sure we could fit something in," Olwen said with utter solemnity, as they walked back toward the door.
And he felt Tinker Bell flitter, invisible, by his ear, her little voice soft in his ear. "Hey, listen…even with all her mutations, she is most lovely."
Culhwch tried to hold back a snort, but nodded in firm agreement.
******************
If there was one thing Synrik understood, it was that the humies were wasteful creatures. It was also widely understood, if no longer stated out loud for fear of offending the horrible TyrantBoss, that they were cowardly and stupid and didn't understand the value of many things in the world.
When the last set of humans had entered the great hall, in which at the very least has been promised a grand show, they had left behind several great refuse piles, in which they chucked out whatever was deemed needless. This was Synrik's treasure trove.
He was small for an Ork, yet even so he could dig away at the stinking piles with ease, focused entirely on the task. He threw away a pair of soiled undergarments, covered in a substance that briefly tingled his green skin before he chucked them to the ground, and kept going, half his body buried in the great pile.
Humies were such strange creatures, but you could learn from them. Their technology was absurd, not even close to the perfect forms that tinged Synrik's genetic memory, that he was certain had to be within every Ork, if they only listened and believed. His thin hand found purchase. Something at last. He tore free, and gripped in his hand was a lump of metal.
"Drilla!" Synrik cried happily, wiggling it over and over in his hand, feeling its every groove, testing the point. He pulled up his goggles, grinning excitedly. He was about to return to digging, when he heard the great thud of metal feet, and suddenly the sun was blocked out, the blue sky removed from sight.
Synrik looked up, and saw the belly of the beastial fortress. "Bloodsucking git," Synrik muttered. Around him, his fellow Greenskins scrambled away from the symbol of their oppressor. The TyrantBoss' child, created through whatever weird process humies created new forms of themselves, was as much above their leadership, the Warbosses Horza and Hengz, as his father.
Synrik hung his head, and joined his fellows in running.
"Oy, Synrik! Walk with your head held high!"
Synrik stopped, and looked up indeed. The Ork who spoke was much taller than him, though very lean for one of his kind. "Kerdik," he managed, "we should run, it'll krump us!"
"Orks don't run! Orks would rather die than run!" Kerdik declared, firmly and with utter conviction. He drew his choppa and waved it up at the fortress. "One day we will krump the TyrantBoss, krump his stupid son!"
"Give it a rest, git!" roared one voice, followed by a bloodcurdling roar immediately after. Horza and Hengz approached, the biggest Ork on the planet, their arms rippling with muscles and throbbing veins, their eyes frenzied. They hated Kerdik, Synrik knew, perhaps because they sensed he would be a challenge soon enough.
"You are the git!" Kerdik barked back. "Weakling dork Ork, kneeling before a humie!"
"Horza most cunning! Hengz most fierce! Horza and Hengz biggest!" Horza's head spoke, he was the one who did most of the talking. Hengz's head, balanced right beside Horza's, roared again, loud enough to shake the planet.
"Just cause you have two heads doesn't make you the most cunning!" Kerdik sneered, "and I'm fiercer, and Synrik is bigger than you."
"It does so!" Horza boomed with laughter. "Two brains means twice the cunning, stupid Kerdik. You aren't fierce, ya git, and Synrik is practically a grot. Look at him, he should be with the food supply!" Hengz laughed as well.
Synrik shrank behind his benefactor. He had heard that threat before, many times.
"Don't matter anyway, TyrantBoss is biggest there is," Horza said, "he said he'll take us to big fight, so we fight with him. Kerdik you are a big stupid, good with choppa but stupid. Stick to choppa, or I kill you." The Warbosses stomped away, shooting Synrik a disgusted look.
"I'm not bigger than them," Synrik muttered glumly.
"All Orks are bigger than those gits, but you especially," Kerdik declared firmly. He swung his choppa over his shoulder, and leaned close to his friend. He grinned. "I have a cunning plan, you know."
"What?" Synrik squeaked, suddenly nervous. Kerdik was full of cunning, but often it didn't work out so well as it seemed in his head.
"Those humies have stompas, they make them bigger. That's why stupid Horza and Hengz think the TyrantBoss is bigger. But if we had stompas, Orks would be bigger. Humans in a stompa is one times two, but an Ork in a stompa is two times two, which is bigger. So we are going to steal a stompa or four!"
"How," Synrik managed, nearly petrified with fear.
Kerdik grinned toothily. "Gotta get the krew together first."
